


never made much sense (be the one to connect)

by pen_light



Series: babbles from one in the am [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, an expression of my own stream of consciousness lol, and it translates to alcoholism for dean and the loss of ether control for cas, basically cas and dean long for each othe, fluffy undertones at the end, i mean it does the job but still wtf, so im going to tag, the mildest angst, unknown pining, wtf is this fake summary lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:27:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pen_light/pseuds/pen_light
Summary: Sometimes, our innermost desires act on their own in realms beyond our consciousness. For the desires among an angel and a hunter, it truly is a beautifully subtle mechanism.alt; Dean longs for something, Cas feels something tugging at him





	never made much sense (be the one to connect)

**Author's Note:**

> first it was nola 1 by pvris, but then after writing it, i realized it fit separate by pvris more. i completely went off track lol so i’ll rewrite one for nola 1 later 
> 
> this is a much better work than the other i posted last week lol. this has been a wip for months. i finally sat down to finish it lol. i hope yall like it. i’m going to get to my other wips in the next few days lol
> 
> also if there are any mistakes or like weird things in this one, sorry about that, i got tired of rereading this over and over to edit to the point that i started glazing over the whole thing

Dean Winchester sighed, his head turned against the edges of the Impala’s door windows. In his left hand, a beer bottle was loosely held, his rough fingers just catching onto the lip of the opening. The hunter’s other hand was gripping onto the leather-clad steering wheel tightly, too tight so that his knuckles were turning white.

Next to him, his younger brother was asleep, relatively peacefully. The tall man was hunched over just by the slightest, his long, untamed locks falling right in front of his eyes, effectively blocking out the blaring lights of the street lamps, their brightness heavily contrasting the darkness that pierced through the night. Sam’s breaths were slow and calm, his chest rising and falling deeply and softly.

Dean sighed, his gaze falling from his brother to his gear shift to directly in front of him. Dean’s eyebrows were pinched faintly, subtly creasing the hunter’s features, the shadows of his wrinkles only befalling when the light fell just right.

Dean was tired. Dean was tired and that was that. They had had quite the hunt, a hefty salt and burn that had equally puzzled and challenged the duo. Ghosts were smart too, a lesson that was learnt the hard way.

Bottle to his lips, the tip of his head, and a conditioned burn down the throat later, Dean was still tired. It wasn’t about the physicality. It wasn’t about the hunts. It wasn’t about anything in particular. Over the years, the man had become accustomed to the weights of the inescapable job.

Tired. But it was more than that.

Dean closed his eyes. Instead of the welcoming blanket of darkness and serenity, he was met with an array of screaming neon colors.

The bottle rose. A gulp was heard. And a sigh was let out.

 

 

 

Castiel lay on his own.Lay—not stand, not sit—but lay _._ He was spread out, his arms to his sides but away from his body. The grasses and dirt were cool and soft against the angel’s back. The wind was gentle and caring, caressing the celestial’s features just the same.

Peaceful. It was peaceful. And he was not.

Castiel sighed.

It certainly was strange; resting. The angel had once thought it to be unnecessary. He had once thought it to be an inefficient manner to recoup, his faith lying with the angelic methods of faith and grace induced healing.

But seasons change. Castiel knew that. Things change. And that’s how it was.

For the angel, it surely wasn’t always that way. Up in heaven, everything was the same. No one gave two shits. Do your job, and that was it. Angels weren’t meant for anything else. They were programmed waves of celestial intent following their father’s wishes word for word.

Really puts a new twist to “daddy issues”, doesn’t it?

Castiel sighed yet again. He was doing that a lot recently. Sighing, reacting, and all the other good emotionally driven stuff. Not to mention, his grace was reacting rather sporadically to the new inner sensations, constituting more sighs.

The wind blew again and somewhere along the plane of reality, Castiel felt a rustle in his energy. Whether it be his wings or not, it surely sent a shiver down the angel’s spine. A flare of grace spiked through Castiel, disturbing whatever peace he’d manage to come to.

Castiel closed his eyes. The wind blew again. He shivered again. His energy flared.

And there was a sigh.

 

 

 

Beer was not a solution. Beer was a distraction. Dean was highly aware of that.

He was also highly aware of the benefits of gouging in the fermented drink. Where there’s distractions, there are conflicts. Bring one into the picture, and the other can be identified. In itself, the concept was quite the useful tool in the hunter’s life, given that his deepest worries and troubles were never explicitly apparent.

The job was simple, straightforward even. Saving people, killing things. That was the goal: saving people, no matter how hard and how trying, in the end, it was a one track mindset that Dean needed to live by.

And lived by he did. So then what was this restless feeling that pitted itself deep in his gut? It was a churning, heavy, restlessness that crept into the hunter’s hands and feet. It was a flaring, neon light that was frankly too bright for any sight to work out. It was overwhelming yet underwhelming at the same time. It was familiar but a stranger at the same time. It was missing yet present at the same time.

It was something, that was for sure. And it was always there. Always present, no matter what the hunter did. Alcohol be damned, even an overdose in ethanol couldn’t shield the inkling at much as Dean would hope it too.

One, two, three, four. The glass bottles rolled to the floor. And Dean was full of emotions galore.

 

 

 

Something pulled at Castiel’s consciousness, managing to ground the frenzied yet calm angel.

Opening his eyes, Castiel squinted with a frown. He tried to focus on the tug. But it was an useless attempt. As he reached forward with his grace, the sensation disappeared.

Grumbling, the angel settled himself back into the grass, the cool dirt, and the wispy winds. He closed his eyes a little too tightly, to the point that faint blobs of light danced behind his eyelids (yet another anomaly of a human vessel).

Castiel’s grace flared.

There was the tug again. Stronger but more spread out this time. Castiel properly frowned and tried to search around for it. Somehow, his unbridled, fallen grace was coming to use as he gathered whatever he could from the calling.

It certainly was familiar. Castiel had felt it before.

A pull. Another pull. A stronger, more persistent pull.

Castiel opened his eyes and sat up, ignoring the blades of grass that dropped from his head and into his lap.

Familiar. Castiel knew that feeling. Among all the new sensations he was feeling, he definitely knew this one feeling.

Mindlessly, the angel’s hand reached into his coat pocket. A few taps later, a dial tone rang through the empty air.

The wind whistled.

 

 

 

Dean was still itching. Dean was still struggling. There was something, something that he was forgetting, that he was letting slip his mind in the general frenzy he had usually kept in his head.

A light burned in the Impala itself. Something rung too, but Dean was far too gone to hear it. The light was recognizable at least, and the hunter reacted, slower than usual, given his intoxicated position.

There was a click.

“‘llo?”

“Hello Dean.”

“Cas?” Dean rubbed his face, forcing himself to stay awake. It’s not the typical, refreshing sleep, but more like the dissociative, stressful sleep. “What’s up? How you doing, buddy?”

“I’m well,” The angel answered. There’s a pause, a calculated interlude from both ends of the telephone. “How’re you doing?”

Dean snorted. His shoulders sagged. “Tired. I’m just tired.”

“You should be resting. You need your four hours.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “Four hours. Y’know someday I’m going to need more than that.”

“You always need more than that.”

“That’s what the coffee’s for, Cas,” Dean pointed out, shaking his head a little at the angel’s ‘matter of fact’ manner.

“Right. Sorry,” Castiel muttered. There was another pause, a cavity filled with static and whistles.

Dean gulped. “Don’t worry about it.” He wanted to say something more, but words were nonexistent at that moment. “How’s it going?”

“Everything is well. You?” Castiel answered, speaking more by default than by thought.

“Yeah. Yeah, Sam and I just finished a case,” Dean answered, the fog clearing up a bit.  _Words, words were good_ , Dean thought.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, it is,” Dean smiled. Looking over at Sam’s hunched over sleeping form, Dean found himself letting out a yawn. “Hey, uh, listen Cas, I’ve got to go. Need those 4 hours you said.”

“Sleep well Dean,” The angel’s deep voice echoed through the phone. The said hunter nodded once again. Just then, words finally came to him.

“I’ll see you later, right?”

“Yes. I’ll come by later.” And there it was. The words that he was looking for.

Just like a switch, Dean smiled, settling into his seat as comfortably as he could. “Bye Cas.”

“Bye Dean.”

The call ended, taking away the reeling emptiness the hunter had been plagued with that night. It would be back, Dean was sure of it, but right then, the call with Cas had taken it away.

Dean put the half filled bottle in his hand away. He closed his eyes and sighed. There was a brief moment of noisy light behind his eyelids.

And there was silence.

 

 

 

Castiel turned off the call. He looked down at the electronic device, fiddling with it as his consciousness alternated between reality and the ether.

The pull was gone. And there was something new in its place.

Castiel took in a deep breath. His heart thrummed and waved. His grace rippled and pulled into itself.

Castiel smiled.

Looking up to the sky, Castiel let the phone drop in his lap. The angel extended his arms and fell back, resting in the small area of weighed down blades of grass he had been in minutes before.

Surely, the frenzied nonsense would return. The familiar pull would follow in suit as well. But at that moment, both were gone and replaced with a more pleasant feeling.

Castiel closed his eyes. He sighed.

The wind whistled again. His smile stayed.

And there was silence.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> yup 
> 
> also, yo i'm on tumblr (pen-light.tumblr.com) wait i can code minimally click this thing to visit my tumblr --> [this thing](pen-light.tumblr.com)


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